


Wall and Thistle

by birdsandivory



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Friends to Lovers, Language of Flowers, Pining Shiro (Voltron), SHEITH - Freeform, flower shop au, keith and pidge are bffs just like i love it, lance is just so earnest, pidge is struggling, plance, she's a mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-20 11:09:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16135991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/birdsandivory/pseuds/birdsandivory
Summary: “Look, I’m trying to impress someone I really like, so - since you’re here - maybe you can make up an arrangement for me to give to them?”Pidge was an engineer, a builder, and not exactly the type to put together bouquets for hopeful lovers; she worked hard despite the fact, and she tried not to let her lack of skill get to her. Still, she hadn't expected Lance to step inside of the shop and give her an unexpected lesson.





	Wall and Thistle

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this clean in one night, I’m a star. Though, I did end up shaving quite a lot of the nonsensical bits away after I reread it; two weeks is about a good enough window to leave and come back fresh;;;
> 
> At first the title was “What In Carnation?”
> 
> I can’t believe I almost went there. Frankly, I’m glad I didn’t.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy. :'>

Pidge, being the technical genius she knew herself to be, hadn’t really expected to work at a flower shop during her break from school.

She was far more fit and qualified to intern as an engineer, which she had planned for when applying at the beginning of the winter break, her brother Matt being her most faithful supporter. And it had been a disappointment for them both when her application was rejected, the claim that lack of experience was taken into consideration when she was being reviewed for approval leaving a bitter taste in their mouths.

Her nose had turned up at the audacity; if anything, she was over-qualified.

The world just wasn’t ready for the things her hands could build.

Matt had agreed.

Still, a job of any kind was important if she was to have a well-rounded, acceptable resume by the time she graduated from Garrison University. There was too much at stake — including a long, complicated bet between herself and her brother, unworthy of explanation despite the fact that she didn’t plan on losing — and so, she had applied for several occupations in her desired field and a few quiet shops around the neighborhood as backups.

Of course, after several weeks of interviews she thought went rather excellently, the flower shop across the street from _Kogane Kafé_ was the only establishment to call her back — asking her to begin as soon as possible.

A day into working and she was still a little bitter about not getting hired by Keith’s mom.

Hunk’s text messages would be going ignored for a while, too, since he stole her job.

And it wasn’t so much that she _disliked_ the thought of working around flowers — their anatomy was incredible, there was nothing like taking note of their skeletal structure via scalpel in the back room when no one was there to truly notice — and she did like her boss, a gentle man named Shiro donned with all of the world’s charm, but it seemed like even _he_ got to spend more time at the coffee shop with her friends than she did.

And when he wasn’t there, he was definitely moping around _Atlas Arrangements_ , staring longingly out of the display window in the hopes that he would see her best friend waiting on a table outside with that huge, unattractive scowl Keith usually happened to carry on his face.

It was disgusting.

“Totally gross,” she whispered quietly to herself at the thought, hands carefully setting up a few arrangements for exhibit that Shiro had prepared in the early morning, rather prideful in the way she’d placed them by order of height and color before taking a few steps over to the counter holding a manual cash register. Wriggling herself up and onto a high stool, she planted her elbows on the marble, chin on the palms of her hands as she awaited her next task — if there was one.

It was a pretty relaxed job as it was, the customers always had an idea of what they wanted and she would just ring up orders while ‘ _Mister Shirogane’_  made friendly conversation; men and women alike seemed to flock to him, if not for his good looks, then definitely for the prosthesis he was sporting in place of his right arm. If Pidge were to be completely honest, though, she didn’t entirely like the fact that there were long moments in which no one arrived at all. It didn’t feel right to be at work and not be working, but she was pretty sure her brother would have told her not to complain, a long lecture about how one should appreciate the quiet running through her mind at the high speed Matt happened to speak.

Her fingertips were tracing the intricate design of the countertop when the shop’s doorbell chimed, and looking up with the intention of calling out a prepared greeting, she was surprised to see Shiro stepping in from outside — a large coffee stain all over the front of his white polo, and an ever bigger one darkening the front of his pants.

Tilting her head to the side just slightly, she took a knee to the seat of her chair in order to look over her boss’ shoulder and spotted Keith through the expanse of glass, tray in hand and a dozen different emotions on his face that suddenly twisted into annoyance as his gaze settled upon the older man’s back — only storming back into the cafe when he caught Pidge’s questioning stare.

She’d text him about that later.

“Pidge,” startled, she had to hold tight to the edge of the counter, as her jerk reaction sent the stool wobbling — the tall man before her coming to the rescue as he placed a steadying hand on her shoulder, looking more than a bit uncomfortable while he made sure she was okay. He seemed awfully short on spirit and, for a moment, she felt a little guilty for being so openly curious. “I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to run home and get changed, so I’m leaving you in charge.”

“Wait,” a beat, “me? I barely started yesterday!”

And she definitely didn’t want _today_ to become her last, but protesting at all was a lost cause. It was well known — by Matt especially — that Shiro always did what he said he would despite the inconvenience.

_“His word is law in the nicest way possible, Pidgeon.”_

It had the tone of finality, alright.

Stepping over to an open container housing countless stems of flowers, bulbous and fragrant, Shiro picked it up from amongst the rest of the buds he’d separated from his last shipment and placed them before her — a pair of shears following from their home on a nearby tool bench. “You’re a quick learner and I trust you. If anything, there’s a book in the file cabinet with a list of tips and prices. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Attempting not to look too nervous, her reply was a swift nod. “Alright.”

Reaching over, he gave her shoulder a pat as though he was trying to quell the unease building within her chest, gesturing to the blossoms. “A customer is going to be popping in to pick up this bunch of hyacinths, too. Do me a favor and trim off all but three leaves on each stem, okay?”

“Okay…”

“And remember what I told you about clipping?” With a roll of her eyes, Pidge sighed as he looked to her expectantly, eyes shining with some sick sort of excitement as he awaited an answer.

_Kill me._

“Cut along the _vein_ , not against the grain.”

“Going against the grain causes flowers _pain_ — you remembered!” Shiro’s positive attitude was infectious, and she couldn’t help but go a bit red in the face from her embarrassment, waving a hand toward the door in the hopes that it would usher him out.

“Okay. Okay, I _got_ this.”

All too amused as he laughed quietly under his breath, the older man gave her a grin. “I knew I could count on you.”

Pidge returned the smile a little dreamily, rubbing the back of her neck as he stepped out of the shop once more, always walking so tall despite the fact that he was wearing more of the seasonal _Winter Blend_ than he could drink.

_How can he be so charming?_

Her eyes lingered on his back just long enough to catch him throwing Keith a glance — the other not so much as gazing in his direction since he waltzed out to check on tables — before hanging his head and continuing on his way. 

Well, she supposed he couldn’t _always_ be charming, but he made a valiant effort, all the same.

Pidge wasted no time pulling out her cellphone, watching as Keith did the same once she sent several texts in regard to the state of her boss’ attire. Her best friend looked unimpressed, rolling his eyes as he typed away on the screen of his phone, looking to her from across the way.

> _**Keith:**  it was an accident_
> 
> _**Pidge:** That had to be at least 3 cups of coffee._
> 
> _**Keith:**  yeah well the first one was an accident_

Her next text was interrupted by the sight of an annoying little bubble of ellipses, indicating that the man was typing, and Pidge had to frown upon her own courteousness — having decided to hold back from giving him an opinion.

> _**Keith:**  i’ll catch you later ok? you know how my mom gets about phones at work_

She hummed a bit skeptically.

“There’s something you’re not telling me.” Being both ends of her own conversation was getting a little old, as it was, and since she couldn’t really bother Keith until after her shift — there wasn’t much to do but watch. It was plainly obvious that he was being pined for, and whatever awkward love story he and Shiro had playing out was definitely worth the gossip and entertainment it brought upon her boring workdays, but for the sake of her friend’s sanity — having picked up a mug from one of the tables and having it slip off of his tray and shatter on the ground due to an unusual bout of clumsiness — well, she decided to let it go.

A customer was to arrive in an hour, after all. 

Picking up the shears left behind for her, she carefully began on what looked to be the least intimidating stem of hyacinth, clipping _along the vein_ as precisely as she could. It was easier to gain the confidence she needed as time wore on, and Pidge found it surprising, the way she felt doing something in an area she wasn’t so well schooled on — unsure and hesitant when she was used to diving in headfirst. 

It would be good for her character, she could only think, finding it easier to cut away leaves from the stems if she thought of them as her initial fear of doing something incorrectly. 

Eventually, she’d master this, too. 

The chime of a bell had her chest pulling tight, as she hadn’t expected any patrons to come in between then and the time Shiro actually came back, and peeking up from behind the tall blooms skewing her vision — she caught the intruder with his back turned, looking over his shoulder her way every so often. 

That was strange, he looked like…

“Lance?”

“Pidge!” Inclining her head in a moment of confusion, she rose — more likely, hopped off of — her seat, setting down the sharp object in her hands and wiping them along the front of the pink apron her boss so insisted they both wear. Hands on his hips, the taller of the two gave a nervous trickle of quavering laughter, eyes pointedly avoiding her own. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“I told you all I was starting work here last week.”

“Yeah, uh, right!” Without her needing to say much more, he seemed to flinch at the very idea of being caught red-handed, though Pidge didn’t quite make the connection; her need to ask why he was there in the first place was soon quashed as well, because he took a moment to fidget where he stood before immediately voicing his reason. “Look, I’m trying to impress someone I really like, so — since you’re here — maybe you can make up an arrangement for me to give to them?”

“Uh,” not wishing to reveal her lack of knowledge in arranging — or the fact that it was unexpected to hear that Lance had affections for anyone without letting the entire world know, and somehow, it made her slightly peevish — her eyes found an array of pink flowers varying in type across the room, figuring she could get a quick sale in even though Shiro hadn’t quite taught her the art. “Sure, I guess.”

“O-Oh, great!”

Ignoring the stutter and strained pitch, it was easier to think more of the issue at hand. Pidge had little to no idea how to go about aesthetically assembling anything one could consider organic, but she was left alone for God knew how long and Lance looked a little less peppy than he usually did, and though neither situation boded well for her — the latter was exceptionally frustrating.

And, if he had the hots for someone, pink would work.

Right?

Performing a quick assessment of the flora covering nearly every surface of the small shop, she found herself a bit taken with a bold bloom, petals splayed wide, similar to the ones he saw in the arrangements Shiro had been working on the day prior. Stepping over to a gaggle of them with as much confidence as she could muster, her hand reached out to take hold of the one she found most appealing and pulling it toward herself, thinking that the other wouldn’t know much better anyway — no matter what flowers were chosen to suit.

“Wait, that’s not right.”

Body freezing, hand wrapped a bit too snugly around a pipe of amaryllis, Pidge looked to Lance nervously — feeling guilty as could be. But maybe, she would think, it could just be chalked up to something as simple as him not liking the color. “Not right?”

He stepped forward, carefully taking the flower from her hand.

“Well, look,” he held the bloom gently, something she never thought he was capable of, and asked, “what’s the meaning of this flower?”

“Meaning?” There was a note of skepticism as she looked from the flower to her friend, only to find him seemingly despondent, lips curled downward rather dolefully.

“Yeah. I mean, if I’m giving it to someone, I want them to know how I feel through the meaning of the flowers. These hold more a message of pride.” Setting the amaryllis into the bundle with the rest, Lance moved with determination, toward a bunch of… tulips? “What about this one?”

Lips opened and closed without uttering words in between, and Pidge all of a sudden felt like she didn’t know enough of _anything_ to be considered knowledgeable, let alone a genius — every question she’d been met with so far had not an answer, the man pacing before her looking almost offended in that dramatic way he did when no one understood his jokes.

“You don’t know?” There was something in his voice that she couldn’t quite place, something she wasn’t used to hearing, at least, not toward herself. And as he stepped around the room, finger pointing to one trill of petals and the next, she felt herself sink a bit deeper into a sense of self-doubt she never thought held a place for a Holt. “Like this one, a white rose! It means humility and innocence. And this one, it’s a yellow acacia, strong bonds and unrequited love.”

“I–”

“No?” He grabbed for another flower, pink and white petals rising toward the ceiling, arranging them in his hands with the others he’d plucked. “Like this one — it means remembrance… Anything?” Another, petals dancing with long, green leaves. “And this one, it’s tenderness and desire.”

Staring at the bloom in his hands, she couldn’t recall the name at all, and hadn’t a clue of its meaning — trivial as it all sounded; instead, Pidge shrugged her shoulders, finding it easier to pretend she was bored. “Oh, I guess that’s interesting.”

“You guess? This is communication in its rawest form.” His voice rose a decibel and it made Pidge flinch, realizing it was in annoyance rather than amusement. It became a calm hum not a few moments later, and he moved about the array of buds around them. “The best arrangement is this one, with a few white hydrangea and pink peonies, and a couple of stalks of aspidistra — that should do it.”

Pidge could only watch the way he gathered several species, so different, though when put together — they were a perfect ensemble, reminding her of the expert hand that owned the shop. “And these white roses. You put them into the mix and it makes up a message — don’t you get that?”

The question felt near condescending, like a lesson complete with a pat on the shoulder, comforting her because she wasn’t quite on the same page.

It made her angry.

“I just– just _work_ here, Lance!”

His response was astoundingly subdued. “How can you work somewhere and not even know what you’re surrounded by?”

_Flowers._

She was surrounded by flowers! Like the yellow one next to her on the right, or the orange one sprouting behind him; it was… it was—

“Look, why don’t you just get out of here? You got your flowers, why don’t you go and give them to the person you like so much? On the _house_.” The humiliation of being showed up by Lance was unexpectedly unsettling; she was used to being the smartest person in the room, getting schooled by anyone other than Matt just infuriated her. “I hope they get your _stupid_ meaning!”

Opening her eyes, having been tightly shut, closed along with the fists at her sides — her gaze settled upon Lance holding the flowers to his chest, crestfallen as much as he was surprised, as though he’d been expecting everything to go differently. Reaching up to run a hand through shaggy bangs, he turned heel and left without so much as another word, bouquet pressed into his arms; the bell sounded less cheerful than it had when he arrived.

Pidge hated how guilty she felt, especially because Lance was still visible from behind the store window, kicking rocks for a moment or two before shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

Part of her wanted to just step outside and apologize.

There was no shame in that.

But she would never have the chance, because with a dramatic pivot only he could pull off, the store’s doorbell rang with the entrance of Lance himself — planting his feet firmly before Pidge and extending the arrangement he passionately put together, an ambitious look in his eyes as her own fell upon it, confusion seemingly her mask for the day.

“What…?” Her words were breathlessly spoken as she watched the man still as stone, not an anxious squirm or waver in his stance, only losing his nerve the moment he was asked a question. But, he wasn’t alone in it anymore, Pidge was right there with him.

“I’m… giving them to the person I like so much.” They both swallowed thickly then, and with nervous movements, the future engineer reached out before she knew what she was doing — the blood in her cheeks as warm as a red dahlia, Lance’s matching all the same. He seemed unsure still, feelings admitted while her own were a mess hanging heavily between them, and she couldn’t tell if her hands were damp from sweat or dew that clung to unwrapped green leaves. “I didn’t mean to get all worked up, I just—”

“I disappointed you.” Lips pursing, the bouquet in her hands seemed to wither, and she heaved a low sigh.

She was disappointing everybody lately, herself included.

Lance’s expression told more truth than he ever would, never admitting she was right just to spare feelings, and — for the first time — it was actually appreciated. “I just thought— Look, never mind. It was stupid.”

“It’s not! It’s…not stupid.”

Taking a step back from the other, Pidge moved to take her seat upon the stool at the counter, reaching into one of the drawers for decorated plastic to wrap the flowers in before she set them down neatly — looking to Lance only to see that he’d fixated upon a string of blue florets of some kind.

Maybe Keith and Shiro weren’t the awkward ones at all.

“Hey,” whispering to get the man’s attention, adept fingers tenderly touched a blossom of the hyacinth Pidge had mindlessly clipped away at just moments before Lance arrived, looking to him with flushed cheeks, “what does this flower mean?”

**Author's Note:**

> Hyacinth - I am sorry.
> 
> Leave your comments and kudos if you want to see what happens between Shiro and Keith!


End file.
